


Outside Looking In

by Dalektable



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Domesticity, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Just A Lot of Voyeurism--Sexual and Non-Sexual, Outdoor Sex, Post-Trespasser, Secrets, Voyeurism, non-sexual voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalektable/pseuds/Dalektable
Summary: Lynne Grey has new neighbors. They have a secret. She's going to get to the bottom of it.His response to the question is to stop smiling. “That's a story for another day,” he says, sighing and looking at some fixed point past her. There's something sad and wistful in his eyes, a contradiction she cannot help but find intriguing. She's sorry she asked, if only because she's insatiably curious now that this visit has brought nothing but more questions.





	Outside Looking In

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for months and is the longest thing I've ever written non-academically, so if you have a comment, please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

They move to South Reach just after the end of winter. Lynne watches through her curtains, more than a little fascinated with the newcomers. At first, she'd only seen one person moving boxes into the house: a tall, blonde man she had assumed to be an eligible bachelor.

“ _The new bachelor next door is rather handsome, don't you think, Jordyn?” She'd said to her sister, not taking her eyes off the window, where the new resident was carting in another box._

“ _What bachelor?” her sister had said, distractedly eating caramels from Lynne's kitchen table. Lynne hadn't missed the mischievous twinkle in her eye._

“ _You know exactly who I'm talking about!”_

“ _You mean_ Cullen _, your new neighbor?” Jordyn snickered, popping another caramel in her mouth. Lynne was surprised to learn she'd found out his name before she had, since Jordyn didn't typically like spending time with people when she could spend time with her horses.“He's no bachelor.”_

“ _He's moving in by himself, what are you talking about? You_ didn't-- _”_

“ _No, of_ course _not. Is that what you think of me?” Jordyn had run a hand through her hair and sighed. “If you actually_ spoke _to people instead of just watching them, you would know that he's a newlywed. His wife is coming in a week: he said she had some business to attend to before they could both settle down here.”_

_Lynne had only grumbled, finally turning away from the window to enjoy her sister's visit._

That hadn't kept her from spying, though, by peeking through the window whenever she thinks she might see something of interest happening outside the house next door. Jordyn is right, and, sure enough, another stranger rides into town on a massive red hart. The fact that her new neighbor's wife is an elf isn't as surprising as the fact that she's Dalish, with the white lines of an inked tree stark against the dark color of her skin. When she gets a closer look, she's even more shocked to see that the woman's left arm is prosthetic.

She watches as Cullen gathers her into his arms and pulls her in for a long, intimate kiss that Lynne has to look away from. His eyes soften and she watches as he gathers her things from her steed and takes them inside for her. His wife follows, closing the door behind them.

They are an odd pair, and she can't help but wonder what brought them together, how their lives had converged and left them intertwined. Whatever their life before this, Lynne finds herself insatiably curious to know the truth.

She gathers the courage to introduce herself the next day, walking slowly from her home to their front door. Cullen answers the door in a simple pair of trousers and a tunic, neither of which do much to hide a body clearly well taken care of. Lynne tries not to notice, reminding herself that _he's married, he's_ taken, _you can't lust after another woman's husband._

“Um, I'm Lynne Grey. I live next door, and I thought I should, uh, introduce myself, welcome you to South Reach, and all that.”

He blinks, staring at her a second before answering. “Cullen Rutherford. Nice to meet you.”

“Rutherford?” she asks, putting together pieces that she hadn't realized were part of the same puzzle. “Are you Mia and Roaslie's templar brother?”

At that, he chuckles. “I haven't been a Templar in years, but yes, that would be me.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling very foolish suddenly. It seems the Rutherford sisters haven't been entirely forthcoming with the details of their brother's life, or she's been too wrapped up in herself to really notice much else of the story. “What have you been doing in the past few years, then?”

His response to the question is to stop smiling. “That's a story for another day,” he says, sighing and looking at some fixed point past her. There's something sad and wistful in his eyes, a contradiction she cannot help but find intriguing. She's sorry she asked, if only because she's insatiably curious now that this visit has brought nothing but more questions.

“I-I understand,” Lynne says, smiling politely and deciding now is the time to take her leave. Cullen closes the door as she says goodbye and turns to go back to her own home, and she's left wondering what kind of secret her neighbor is keeping.

[...]

Lynne watches his wife from the window plenty, but doesn't actually meet her for another week.

“Ellana Rutherford-Lavellan,” she says, sticking her right hand out. Lynne tries not to look where her left arm should be, the prosthetic gone and leaving an empty space that draws Lynne's eye. “It's nice to meet you finally.”

The surname “Lavellan” seems familiar, but Lynne doesn't think too hard on it, shaking Ellana's hand with her own. She's probably just heard the name from a passing Dalish clan, perhaps Ellana's own. Isn't that what the Dalish do, anyway? Wander? Her voice has a bit of a Free Marcher accent, but there's nothing to say their clan wouldn't have moved into Ferelden a bit, particularly during those harsh northern winters.

The elf smiles at her until she sees something just beyond Lynne's shoulder. “Are you a painter?” she asks, a bit of excitement in her voice, taking a step forward into the home and immediately apologizing for the breach in personal space. “I'm sorry. I still haven't learned my manners, I guess.”

“It's no problem. You can come in, if you would like,” Lynne responds, her voice somewhat tight.

The elf doesn't seem to notice her tone and wastes no time in stepping into Lynne's home to examine her paintings. “I draw, myself. Not enough to sustain myself, of course, but I never had much time before. Maybe now that we've settled down, I'll have the opportunity. These are wonderful, though.”

“What did you two do before?” Lynne finds herself asking.

“Doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is that we're here now, and we're building our life together.”

“Yeah, I suppose that's true,” Lynne says, secretly dissatisfied as she watches the elf look through her paintings, making small noises in her throat as she does so, a small smile on her face.

[...]

She makes up stories about how they met.

_He's been tracking the group of blood mages for a week now, and although they've made it difficult, he's tracked them down to where they're hiding in the forest outside the city. He and a small group of templars are now trekking their way through the trees to eliminate the threat. One of the Dalish clans is making their way through the area, and he makes sure his soldiers keep clear of the aravels, trying to be respectful of their space._

_It doesn't matter, because when the clan sees them in the area, a couple of their hunters come to greet them: neither with a particularly fond expression on their tattooed faces._

“ _We have done nothing to warrant this,” the male hunter says, hand steady at the bow on his back in the even that he needs it._

“ _Arryn,” the female hunter says to her companion, in a warning voice. Arryn gives her an unhappy look, but lets her speak.“Please, Sers, we mean no harm. Our keeper and our First have done nothing wrong.”_

_Cullen steps forward. “We are not here to disturb you,” he says, voice ringing proud. “Just to track down a group of blood mages who have made the forest their home. Do you know where they might be hiding?”_

_The hunters exchange a look. “Rivella, do you think that could be where Ellana is?”_

“ _Is one of your clan missing?” Cullen asks, looking worried now._

“ _Yes,” Rivella says, stepping forward. “One of our artisans. She disappeared earlier today, but we thought she would come back within a few hours, like she always does. When we saw you and your group, we assumed--” she shakes her head. “She's not a mage, so it doesn't make sense that you would take her, but the Dalish tell tales, you know.”_

 _Cullen knows: tales of the cruelty of Templars, of_ humans. _He knows they aren't entirely unfounded, either._

“ _We will bring her back safely,” he says._

_Arryn nods, reluctantly letting go of his bow and stepping back, pointing to a location southeast of where they currently are. “There's a large cave in that direction. It would make an excellent hiding place; it's under a willow and very hard to spot unless you know what you're looking for. That may be where they're hiding.”_

_Cullen nods and leads his men in that direction. It doesn't take them long to come across the cave: it's well hidden and out of sight enough to be a good hideaway. They can feel magic in the air, and all of the Templars are on edge as they enter the cave._

_What they find inside is what they had been prepared for, but not what they had hoped for. The missing elf lies across the floor, her left arm cut off, leaving her bleeding on the cave floor as the blood mages attempt a spell around her._

_The Templars interrupt the spell, and a fight begins, with Cullen taking the lead in battle and going head to head with the leader of the blood mages. A group of Templars should be more than enough to take down novice blood mages, but something is not as they expected._

_A rage demon rises from the shadow in the back of the cave, the glow and power of it filling the small space. Most of the mages are gone now, save the leader and one straggler gripping a broken stave._

_Cullen goes head to head with the leader as his men take on the_

_He angles the shield down, deflecting the mage's fire spells, before purging the magic from the air and leaving the two remaining mages grasping for magic. When he lands the final blow with his sword, he tries not to flinch. The life of a soldier was what he had been trained for, but taking a human life has never become easier._

_He has begun to wonder, even, if it is a life that truly suits him._

_The demon and other mage fall at the hands of his capable men, and he doesn't have time to contemplate his life choices anymore as one of the men says, “Ser, I think she's alive.”_

_They rush her back to her clan, and although the rest of the templars leave the forest now that their job is done, Cullen waits outside the borders of their camp to learn whether or not she is going to make it._

_The Keeper emerges from the gate after a few hours, letting him know that although she is short one arm, she will make it. She thanks him for staying around, and quietly tells him that he should leave. The wary looks the hunters at the gate are giving him tells him it would be a good idea._

_But even when he's in his bunk that night, he can't get the peaceful face of the dying elf out of his mind. Is death truly that peaceful, he wonders, or is it just that it looks so much like sleep that he's imposing peace upon it?_

_It's a week later, and he hasn't been able to put the events of the forest out of his mind, try as he might. So he might think he's imagining things when he sees a small, dark-skinned elf with one arm standing at the gates of the templar compound._

“ _My Keeper tells me you saved my life,” she says, smiling at him shyly. Her eyes are some unholy mixture of blue and green and gold, calling to him stronger than any chantry he's ever step foot in._

“ _I think she did most of the work,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. Ellana takes one of his hands in her own._

“ _She would never have had the chance to save me if you had not first rescued me. Thank you.”_

_They meet occasionally, Ellana insistent upon getting to know the man who had saved her life. They learn more about one another until they're falling in love, beyond repair. Cullen leaves the templars for a quieter life, without the chaos and danger that could take him so easily away from Ellana. She, in return, must leave her clan for love of a human, and they settle in South Reach, with the rest of his family._

A couple of months after they move to town, a few men begin to trickle into their home for lengths at a time. Ellana has already begun an apothecary out of their home, but it would not be cause for a steady stream of seemingly-healthy men coming to stay for one day, two days, stretching into months with them.

They help out around the house, best as Lynne can tell. They till the ground for the garden, feed the dog, work on house repairs. Sometimes, one or two of them will go missing inside the house for a week only to appear, slightly thinner, working and smiling with the rest of them.

It's perplexing until she meets one of them in the town market one day, with warm brown eyes that suck her in. She invites him back to her place, and he's surprised to find that she's lived next door the entire time. They drink wine and she ends up in his lap, running her fingers over his toned stomach. He gasps against her skin and tries to tell her that he's not going to be in South Reach for long; he's here to detox.

“What do you mean?” She asks, resuming her kisses along his neck as soon as she can. He tilts his head back and looks towards the ceiling, hands in her hair.

“I was a Templar until a month ago. I left the order and heard Cullen's was the place to come to help, well...”

She's nibbling on his neck when she breaks away to ask again, “To help what?”

“To help with the lyrium cravings. To live a life without it.” She pulls back to look at him, very seriously.

“What was your name again?”

“Henrik.”

“Well, Henrik. Think I can help you forget for the night?” He grins and nods, leaning back in for another kiss.

True to his word, he eventually leaves town and she doesn't see him again, although not without them spending a few more nights together. Her neighbors' stream of guests never does end; she sees new men and the occasional woman arrive in even intervals. But now she knows what they're there for, and she knows just a little bit more than she did before.

[...]

“There's something odd about Ellana,” Lynne tells her sister one evening, idly watching the woman garden from the window.

“Please don't start,” Jordyn says, peeling the skin off of a potato and throwing the peelings in with the scraps for Lynne's own garden.

“I'm _serious_ ,” she says. “And _no,_ it's not because I think her husband is incredibly handsome. I would never break up a marriage like that. I just—I think there's something she's hiding, that's all. Don't you get a feeling that she's not being entirely truthful when you talk to her?”

“No, I don't. But you also ask incredibly probing questions I'm not sure most people would want to answer entirely truthfully.”

“Wouldn't I just think that _everyone_ was hiding something, then, if you're so smart?” Lynne says, raising an eyebrow at her sister. 

“You might as well,” Jordyn responds, deadpan. “Do I have to remind you of the conspiracy theory you created about Mrs. Bloome last year?”

“Shut up about that!” Lynne says, flinging herself at Jordyn in an attempt to slap her hand over her mouth and shut her up. Everything falls into madness with Jordyn licks her sister's hand, and when that's not enough, bites her.

Even after her sister inevitably leaves to go back to her own home and tend to her horses, Lynne still thinks she's right about her new neighbors. Ellana is hiding something, and her husband is helping her. She sets about watching closer, more carefully, in an attempt to figure out what the secret is.

It's really not her place, but Maker if she hasn't dealt with enough curiosity because of them as it is. She figures it's her due to finally just _know_ , so she can move on with her life. Her initial attraction to Cullen is barely a passing thought, since the man can barely tear his eyes away from his wife, which for any woman _but_ his wife comes as quite the mood-killer. He doesn't seem to mind.

No, this now has nothing to do with _wanting_ him, and more to do with wanting to know who they are.

Her answer comes about a month later, just when she's just about given up; with a careful eye trained on the house next door and more than a few missed commission deadlines, she spots the pair of them in the garden of their home, in a sparring-match-turned-playfight. Ellana squeals happily, dodging her husband's stronger, but slower, grip and running to the other side of the yard.

Lynne sinks lower into her seat, peering around the edge of the canvas while trying to let it hide her face as best as possible. They don't seem to care if anyone is watching, anyway, and they continue to laugh and spar.

Cullen very nearly catches his wife before she eludes his grasp again, taunting him from a few meters away. Their movements expose a certain familiarity with their partner, as if they've done this before. They very well could have, for all she knows about their past together.

It's mesmerizing: the push and the pull, the sound of her laughter ringing out, the sound of his chuckling as he finally catches her, pushing her against the side of the house and kissing her until he forgets what they were doing and she escapes his grasp again.

She's watching intently, almost leaning out of her seat, secrecy be damned, and she still almost misses it. Ellana's caught again, squirming against her husband as he tickles her neck with his nose. They're both laughing, carefree, and one of her hands suddenly has white-purple sparks running along her fingers. She shoves that hand into his hair, and it's standing on end.

“Ellana!” he says, running a hand through his hair, stunned. He doesn't sound angry, though. Maybe worried. Most of the elation has drained from his voice. “Someone could have seen. This isn't the clan; someone might take you away from me.”

“Cullen,” she replies, sounding exasperated. “No one saw. It's fine. We'll be fine.”

“It might not always be that way,” he says, but concedes the argument this time with a dip of his head. “Diving Victoria may be making changes in this world, but attitudes about--” he drops his voice to a conspiritorial whisper, “ _mages_ haven't changed overnight.”

“We'll be fine, Cullen,” she says, running her right hand along his arm. He visibly calms at her touch.

“We should head inside and get supper ready for the men and the dog. And I need to fix my hair.” He gives her a playful look, and Ellana takes his hand to lead the way.

[…]

She makes up stories about how they fell in love.

_She is a Dalish mage caught by the Templars and he is the Templar to oversee her Harrowing. They have only met in passing, but he finds himself captivated by the bright white inked lines across her face, the wisdom in her eyes. There's an attraction there, but it's not something he can let himself feel._

_Nor can he let himself notice the reflection of it in her._

_Still, when she passes, he finds himself flooded with relief. He's never enjoyed killing anyone, particularly in these situations. He had joined the Templars to help people, not cut them down. But here he is, standing guard, watching for any sign of corruption or abominations, instructed to kill first and ask questions later._

_She looks so demure in her circle robes when he sees her, later, around the circle. It wasn't without some amount of time spent in solitary confinement for the Templars she had managed to injure while they were taking her in. Every time he sees her, he must remind himself of her danger._

_Cullen is the one to catch her the first time she tries to escape from the tower, and she's lucky it was him over anyone else, because he promises to keep it a secret as long as she promises not to try again. She doesn't make the promise, and Cullen still doesn't tell anyone._

_A few weeks later, she catches up to him in a dark hall and puts her hand on his armored shoulder. He wants to pretend he feels nothing, but instead he just wonders at what her hand would feel like without the armor._

“ _You didn't turn me in,” she says, and it comes out all in one breath, incredulous._

_He hadn't. Doesn't that make him a bad Templar?_

“ _No, because I understand why you want to leave. But for your sake, you can't do it again. I won't be able to cover for you if it happens in the future, and they'll always track you down.”_

“ _The phylactery.” She says it as if it's the answer to a question she had been afraid to ask. He knows what she means without needing to ask._

“ _Don't think about it.” His eyes are hard, and he's sure she has to notice, but she looks up at him with these soft eyes and puts her hand on his cheek._

“ _Thank you, Cullen.” She presses her lips against the side of his face and passes him, disappearing into one of the many rooms of the tower, leaving him to wonder when she'd learned his name._

 _It's a long time before she tries anything again, and this time he isn't the one to catch her, but he overhears some of the comments the other Templars throw at her as they take her in for punishment. The slurs—_ knife ear, rabbit— _sting his ears, but he looks away. He can feel the burn of her eyes on his back as she's dragged away._

_The next time she sees him, he feels her palm across his face. It isn't very strong, but she's obviously put a lot of her strength into it. She looks thinner than the last time he'd seen her, and he doesn't let himself think of what sort of punishment she'd been through since then._

“ _You need to be careful,” is all he says, bringing one hand up to touch his reddening cheek._

“ _Why do you care, shem?” Her mouth is full of venom and fire, and he falls just a little bit more in love with her before realizing that's what had been happening to him since she was first brought to the Circle a year prior._

“ _Because you're different,” he replies, looking into her eyes with such longing it would be impossible for her to ignore. “If you're going to take stupid risks, at least let me teach you how to defend yourself.”_

_They could both get caught, but he meets up with her at night, when he's supposed to be in bed, and teaches her how to wield her body better in a fight. It won't be much against the armor and weapons of the Templars, but she's happy to learn all the same._

_The others start noticing that he's often gone from his bed at night, and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and tells them that he's meeting one of the women of the order. They congratulate him with a few slaps on the back and try to figure out who it is. Cullen holds his tongue, but it doesn't keep them from offering sex tips._

_A few months into their lessons, she manages to get the better of him in a sparring match. He's not using his full strength yet, and he can't take his armor into the deserted rooms at night without making much noise, so he's in just breeches and a tunic, but she's proud and flushed red, breathing heavily as she pins him to the floor._

_He doesn't know who moves forward first, but she's kissing him, and he's kissing her. His arms wrap themselves around her waist and he pulls her closer until they're out of breath. It's only then that he realizes just how deep he is._

_Cullen knows he won't be able to stay away from her if they're both here, and that if they have any chance at a happy ending, something will have to change._

“ _You want to escape?” he asks her, tracing her lips with his index finger. “I'll help you.” She smiles and kisses him again._

She sees them, just before the end of summer, rutting up against the back of their house in the twilight. Lynne knows she should look away, but her eyes afix themselves to the sight before her. She can't see exactly what they're doing, but the meet and departure of their hips is clue enough. Ellana's dress is bunched up around her thighs, Cullen's trousers opened at the front, and she's angled up against the wall, her one hand wrapped around his neck, and the shoulder without an arm braced against the side of the house. And it's a testament to his strength that she's held up with the one arm he has tucked under her, the other busying itself between her legs.

Lynne watches them through the bushes, ducking lower so as not to be seen. It's wrong, so very wrong, but she can't look away as Ellana uses her augmented height to whisper something into Cullen's ear that makes him blush and work his hips harder against her.

She hears what Ellana says next, in part because she says it at a normal volume, and in part because she's turned to look directly where Lynne's hidden behind the bushes. Hadn't she heard something about Elven eyesight being better? Or was that their hearing? _Shit._

“Anyone could find us out here, Cullen,” Ellana says these into the night air and turns to look back at her husband, fingers digging into his shoulder harder. “They'd see how well you take orders.” The resulting groan from Cullen is loud enough Lynne would be surprised to be the only one to hear it.

“Old habits are hard to break,” he says, sounding rather out of breath.

Lynne watches as his wife arches against him, looking mischievous draped half in the shadows. “Ah, but you're not even _trying;_ I think you rather like taking orders.”

“And you always did like to be in control,” he responds, and she looks like she wants to say something back, but his hand is moving double time between her legs, and her ankles lock around his back as she shakes against him, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his chest through the shudders. Lynne shifts in the bushes, reminding herself again that this isn't something she should be watching.

It isn't too long before Ellana regains herself, grinding back against his hips even as his fingers continue to work at her. “I'd wager,” he says, low enough Lynne almost doesn't hear. “I can make you come again before I'm done.”

“I'll take that bet,” she responds, pressing a kiss to his neck before biting down. His hips stutter before resuming their former pace, and he growls into her neck. Lynne doesn't stick around to see who wins the game as she extricates herself from their shrubbery and walks briskly home, trying not to think about what she's seen, and what she now knows.

She certainly doesn't expect Ellana to come round her house in the morning, and not smiling like they're finally becoming best friends. Lynne answers the door covered in flecks of paint, her nose streaked in blue. She doesn't bother to invite her neighbor in at this point, but steps aside to give her room.

Ellana, true to form, takes a few steps into the threshold of the house without any greeting, looking around as if everything is new. Her eyes light up at the sight of the painting Lynne is working on, though she pulls her eyes away to look at the woman herself.

“I know you saw us last night,” she says, and Lynne nearly chokes in response. She hadn't expected to be confronted, but if she had thought about it, she wouldn't have expected it to come so bluntly. But Ellana's continuing anyway, unperturbed by the shocked response. “Cullen knows, too. I told him as soon as I knew you were there.”

So _that's_ what Ellana had whispered the night before. Lynne thinks back to Cullen's response, the hitch in his rhythm as he'd been told he was being watched.

“I--” Lynne tries to find the words. “I didn't mean to watch. I was just passing by and then I noticed and-and I didn't want you to know I'd seen, so I hid.”

To her surprise, Ellana chuckles, but she doesn't sound very happy. “We never had much privacy, before. Our first kiss itself was interrupted, and our relationship was always subject to the eyes of others. It's not something we're unused to, and between you and me, I think he likes being watched, just a bit.”

“You're...not mad?”

Ellana's eyes get dark for a moment, and the laughter on her face seems to slip away. “I _am,_ ” she says, and Lynne hasn't heard her sound so menacing the entire time they've lived next to one another. “Don't get me wrong. This is a warning, Lynne. Stay the _fuck_ out of my private life. Neither Cullen nor I have had the chance to even _have_ a life without someone watching us, and you're not going to ruin it. I will not have our children brought up in a world where they can't be themselves without looking over their shoulders.”

Lynne's eyes widen and she gapes at Ellana's stomach; she doesn't see a hint of a bump, nothing that would indicate pregnancy.

“Are you—?” The words escape her mouth before she can even consider them.

“Are you _really_ asking me that? Keep out of our business, Miss Grey.” Ellana turns around sharply, looks at her once more over her shoulder, and disappears into her own home.

When Lynne tells her sister about it later, Jordyn is hesitant to believe her, though no sooner does she accept it as the truth is she on Ellana's side. Lynne tells her what a betrayal this is; she's supposed to be on her side—they're sisters.

“You _are_ rather nosy, you know,” she just says in response, wrinkling her nose. “I'm sure they moved here because they wanted privacy, and here you are, all in their business.”

“She basically _threatened me._ And she's a mage! She could destroy me in seconds.”

“Then keep out of their private life!” Jordyn throws up her hands, exasperated. “Clearly the woman's just tired of you watching them at every turn. You said yourself: they came here to get away from prying eyes, and here you are, prying with your eyes. She probably feels threatened.”

“Why should she be? She's the one who clearly seduced a Templar away from his duties and is now pregnant with his elf-blooded baby!”

Jordyn has to take a moment to compose herself. “She's pregnant? And was that an anti-elf remark, Lynne?”

“I don't know,” Lynne says, running her hands through her hair. “I'm just frustrated. Who _are_ they?”

“They're Cullen and Ellana Rutherford,” Jordyn says. “Your neighbors. Isn't that enough?”

“Rutherford-Lavellan,” she grumbles.

“What?”

“Ellana's surname is Rutherford-Lavellan.”

“Lavellan?”

“Yes, that's what I just said, Jordyn.” Lynne's pinching the bridge of her nose now.

“And you've known this _how_ long and didn't think to tell me?” Jordyn's frustrated tone is enough to confuse her sister.

“Since about a week after they moved in. Why?”

“When I took those horses to Wycome earlier in the year, there was a Dalish clan that had settled there. Clan Lavellan. I met a few of the elves from the clan and they kept telling me about how their First—a mage apprentice in the clan—had joined the Inquisition.”

“So she was part of the Inquisition, then. That makes a lot of sense,” Lynne says, thinking about it. They must have met as soldiers in the Inquisition's army. She could have lost her arm in a battle, and with all that time in the barracks, it's no surprise they took to one another. In difficult times, people often found comfort in one another. They're lucky their comfort lasted beyond their time of crisis, she thinks bitterly.

“You're misunderstanding me, Lynne. Their First joined the Inquisition when she was caught in the explosion at the conclave and _survived._ Their first became the _Inquisitor_.”

“Don't be stupid, Jordyn, the Inquisitor has a glowing magic mark thing on her hand, doesn't she?” Frankly, she never knew much about the Inquisition. Of course, the Breach and Coryph—whateverhisnamewas threatened them in South Reach as much as the rest of the world, but they never had anything to do with the Inquisition directly. She'd never even bothered to learn any of the higher-ups' names; she knew only what the rumors said, and titles superimposed names. Inquisitor. Herald. Spymaster. Commander. Diplomat. The fact that the Inquisitor is Dalish had only seemed important because it was so odd in a world run by humans.

“Her _left_ hand. And she's a Dalish mage from clan _Lavellan._ Ellana's missing her left arm, almost as if she got rid of it to hide her identity. Your neighbor is one of the most _powerful_ women in Thedas, Lynne.”

“That's only half the mystery. If she's the Inquisitor, who is _Cullen_?”

[...]

She makes up stories about how they saved the world.

_They meet in the beginning of the Inquisition. He's a soldier, high-ranking, and she's the Herald. It's something just to forget about the chaos of the world at first, but blossoms into something else. She's just another agent of the Inquisition, now, and he's just a solider, so they're able to carry on the affair without anyone bothering them._

_It's when she becomes the Inquisitor that things become difficult. There are elements of power to their relationship now, and unsavory conclusions to be drawn about Ellana were it to come out. He tries to end it, for her sake—he_ loves _her, can't bear to see her name covered in soot and ash and mud because of him._

_She refuses him, tells him they'll be more careful, but they'll make it. And besides, their Diplomat, Commander, and Spymaster are good enough to keep any scandal under the rug, right? It is not made any easier by the fact that he is a Templar and she a mage, but it seems that neither of them have ever played by the rules very well._

_But she can't keep it a secret from her advisers much longer; they find out about her affair with the soldier and tell her it is best if she leave it behind. She is not meant to have happiness herself, it seems, but to save the world and sacrifice herself for the better of mankind._

_Ellana has never been one to take that as the only answer, though, and tells them she will not be giving Cullen up. That he has given her strength to fight, that she won't be able to go on without him._

_And they become a bit of an open secret, a spectacle within the Inquisition but not to be mentioned outside of their fortress for fear of the Inquisitor's wrath._

Lynne wonders at the fact that this woman living next to her, dog, farm, husband and all, is the same woman who closed a hole in the sky and defeated an ancient Tevinter magister and saved the world. She's heard, a little, of all the good deeds the Inquisitor did while she roamed all over Ferelden and Orlais. That this is the same woman who seemed amazed over her paintings and play-fought with her husband in the garden is stunning.

She's also the same woman who stood in Lynne's own home and threatened her, sounding very much like she knows what she's doing. Now Lynne's inclined to believe that she does.

But who is Cullen—she thinks he's just some solider who had joined the Inquisition's ranks, but she needs to know for sure. Now, however, she needs to be more careful about her snooping. She's almost tempted to give it up entirely, but knows that's not possible with how curious she gets.

There is one way she can learn something about Cullen without tipping off his wife: the Templars. They have quite a few with them at all times. Lynne just needs to corner one of them and interrogate him. Simple enough, she thinks.

[…]

As it turns out, it's not so simple.

Ellana's eye is watchful, and the Templars don't let themselves get cornered too easily. It takes weeks for her to even have a casual conversation with one of them: a man named Delrin. She remembers seeing him earlier in the month looking rather feverish, and is happy to see him looking healthy and happy again. He tells her he's almost ready to move on with his life, find a new purpose in his life.

“Really?” She says, trying not to sound too overeager, lest she let her ruse slip.

“Absolutely. I've loved staying with Cullen and the I—Ellana, but they're, well, going to have a little less room sometime this upcoming year, and I don't want to overstay my welcome. There are other Templars to help, more men and women who want control over their life again.”

She nods, more engrossed in the way he talks than what he's saying.

“I understand. That's why I paint. It lets me have control over my surroundings a little more, let me put to paper what I see rather than letting reality define me.”

“You paint?” He asks, sounding excited suddenly. Lynne can't help but laugh, all but forgetting her original purpose for beginning the conversation.

“I do. For a living; sometimes I have to take commissions just to get food on the table, but I'm happy to paint a few noblewomen for the freedom to paint what I want.” She hesitates for a moment. “Do you...want to see them?”

He smiles, and she takes his hand and leads him back to her home.

They talk for hours more, Lynne no longer after Cullen's identity and more interested in Delrin's. He informs her he was part of the Inquisition, too, starts telling her tales while she happily listens.

“The Commander and the Inquisitor would spar sometimes,” he's saying. “She's just this tiny elven mage, and he's, well, a former Templar, and a human, but it was close every time. Sometimes they'd come to a tie, sometimes she'd win, sometimes he'd win. It was always hard to tell which way it was going to go until the last moment.”

“The Commander of the Inquisiton was a Templar?” She asks.

“Yeah, Cullen really set an example for all of us, showed that it's possible to free ourselves from the reign of the Chantry.”

“Cullen.”

“...yes?”

“Cullen, my neighbor.” She stares at him, blankly, before grinning. “This makes so much more sense than anything I came up with. Of _course. Of course_ he was the Commander—who else would she spend enough time with to become close enough to marry! Delrin, you beautiful man, you've solved it.”

“I've...what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I must admit, I'm very confused.”

“I'll explain after I kiss you, okay? And then you're going to stay here for a month or two, get to know South Reach, and tell me how you like it. Maybe see if you like it enough to stay?”

He smiles and leans in to press their lips together.

“Of course.”

 


End file.
